


Normal Wizards

by fwooshy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Minor Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter, Misunderstandings, POV Alternating, Secret Relationship, Sub Draco Malfoy, Unhealthy Relationships, d/s dynamics, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28280571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fwooshy/pseuds/fwooshy
Summary: It was easier to keep their relationship a secret than deal with the reality of what others expected from them.Based off of Sally Rooney'sNormal People.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to highlight an additional warning for under-/un-negotiated d/s dynamics between 17/18+ boys, although overall the dynamic is very gentle and they're lucky that nothing bad happens to them because of it! Please let me know if I should clarify this warning in any other way.
> 
> This fic is heavily inspired by Sally Rooney's _Normal People_ (although I've kept the quotation marks in dialogue), so you can expect heavy doses of introspection from two people being very emotional and not expressing it well. It is and will not be betaed. I have it half written so far and hope to update once a week. Thanks for taking a look!

Draco met Harry in the drawing-room. "She’ll be a while longer," he said about Andromeda and motioned for Harry to sit down.

Harry paced across the room to look out the open window. The manor gates were a streak of black in the distance, the dirt road leading to it blurring into the horizon as though it travelled out of time and space. Harry drove up only moments ago, but his memory of it was already fading, like reality itself was stretching out of reach.

He turned back to the room, his eyes squinting in the sudden dimness. Draco stood in the doorway wearing a green silk bathrobe, his hair damp and dripping down his neck. He smelled like soap and over-steeped tea.

"Can’t sit. Sorry," Harry said.

"That’s quite alright."

"Right. Err. You don’t have to wait with me. I’m sure you have —"

"I must insist." Draco's mouth twisted wryly. "It’s not safe for you to be alone."

Harry wanted to punch the smirk straight off his face. "This fucking  _ place _ ," he scowled instead. He eyed an upholstered armchair, half expecting it to grow teeth. "Can’t blame me for not wanting to sit."

"I cannot. Any other room and—" Draco trailed off with his mouth still frozen in that not-smile. It was the kind of smile that could watch you die.

Harry rocked in horror as he remembered that Andromeda had brought Teddy. He imagined Teddy finding his way into a room that he shouldn't have, a room of rotting corpses, or snakes, or —

Draco laughed. "I’m joking, Potter."

"Jesus. That’s not  _ funny _ ."

"Oh, it was a little." Draco made his way to the chaise and sat down on the edge of it, his robe riding up smooth thighs. The fabric bunched in a way that made clear that he’d forgone pants.

Harry checked his watch. Quarter past two. Andromeda’s visits were unpredictable. Last week she ran thirty minutes over, but the week before she fell asleep waiting for Harry in the drawing-room. It wasn’t Andromeda’s fault. Narcissa wasn’t doing well, and her moods were tempest.

Knowing that didn’t make the present any more tolerable.

"How’s. Err — how’s your mum?"

"Is that a real question? Or are you asking me when you can leave?"

"I—" Harry hesitated. "Both. Both, alright?" he admitted, although he didn’t know why. He didn’t owe the Malfoys enough to care about Draco’s mum.

"It’s not her best day."

"How can you tell?"

Draco looked down at his fists clenched white-knuckled in his lap. "It’s a bad day when she thinks I’m my father."

Harry took an impulsive step toward Draco. Then he thought better of it and backed up so far he hit a wall. He wished he didn't ask.

A shadow of a sneer crept over Draco’s face. "Will you sit down? You’re making me nervous."

Harry rolled his eyes and sat down. "Better now?"

"No. I should’ve known that you make me nervous no matter what you do."

"You’re lying," Harry snorted, but he was the same way. Everything about Draco agitated a part of him that he didn’t understand. Even the way Draco’s silk slippers scuffed against the carpet prickled down the back of Harry’s neck. He wasn’t sure if he was afraid of him or if he wanted to punch him.

Andromeda came in from the hall a while later, tugging along a sleepy Teddy by his chubby hand. Draco walked them out to the Manor's front where Harry parked his car next to a set of carriage tracks. Harry gently gathered Teddy in his arms and buckled him into the car seat.

When Harry straightened back up, he saw that Draco was holding Andromeda by the elbow and speaking to her under a Muffliato. Harry went around the rear of the car and got in behind the steering wheel. He could see the distressed side of Draco’s face from this angle. They must’ve been discussing Narcissa. Harry didn’t know why he was surprised to see Draco so worried. He should have known that even pitvipers took care of their young.

Then Draco kissed Andromeda on both cheeks before walking back up the Manor steps without another look back at Harry.

"You two seem to be getting on better now," Andromeda commented on the ride home.

Harry scowled, measuring his next words out carefully in his head. It wasn’t as though he didn’t trust Andromeda; he wouldn’t leave Teddy with her otherwise. But there was a coldness to her that Harry wasn’t accustomed to feeling from people close to him. It made him remember how she was born a Black, how she sorted Slytherin like the rest of them.

"We’re alright, I suppose," Harry ventured. Today was a significant improvement from the start of summer when Andromeda walked in on them shouting from opposite drawing-room corners.

"Sometimes cordial is the most you can ask for."

"The most  _ he _ can ask for," Harry muttered. He wasn’t asking the Malfoys for anything.

The following week, Draco opened the front door and watched Harry drive up the dirt road in a cloud of dust. The car was so dirty that he couldn't remember what colour it had been before. Some days he wanted to throw a cleaning charm on it—but he resisted. Maybe it was a Muggle thing or a sentimental thing; Harry was awkward about material objects like that.

"You’re in for a long wait," Draco warned when Harry walked up the steps.

Harry stopped in front of him. "Are you going to let me in?"

"Maybe an hour. Maybe two. Maybe the longest wait yet."

Harry scowled. "It’s two hours from London. I’m not about to go back and wait."

"I’m not asking you to." Draco pursed his lips, not meeting Harry’s eyes. "Do you want to come up to my room?" It was an outrageous suggestion, but he was sick of making stilted conversation in the drawing-room. At least in his bedroom, there were distractions, things to look at other than Harry’s scarred face. Maybe Harry would doze off; then Draco could read a book.

"The furniture won’t strangle me, you think?"

Draco resisted a smile before leading the way to his bedroom. He didn’t want to scare Harry off. 

Harry looked around Draco's bedroom. "It’s not what I imagined your childhood room to look like."

"I only moved in at the start of summer. Thought I’d have a fresh start."

"Speaking of fresh starts, Parkinson's got a flat in London. I see her around Diagon."

Draco didn't know that; Pansy didn't tell him. He didn't talk to anyone he used to know. "I’m in the East Wing now. The bathroom is on the left of the bed. I keep on walking into my closet looking for the toilet. It’s completely different."

"Not if you’re still breathing in Voldemort's stench."

Draco could either laugh or cringe, so he chose to laugh. "Lord knows the pounds of dead skin he shed; the monster was practically part snake."

Harry made a face.

"What?" Draco asked.

"You laugh at the weirdest things. I don’t know why I didn’t notice at school."

Draco laughed again. "I had bigger things going for me back then. Baby death eater, general villainy."

"You going to keep that up next year?" There was a shade of menace in Harry's tone that made Draco want to back down and show his belly.

"Can’t afford to. My father’s fortune’s not enough to shield me anymore."

Harry looked off. "Next term is going to be weird." Draco could tell that Harry was thinking about his own problems now.

"It will be," Draco agreed, because how could it not? Vince was  _ dead _ .

"I’m glad you’re coming back, though. Would feel weird without you."

Draco stifled another laugh behind his hand. "Good joke, Potter."

"No, I —" a funny look came over Harry's face. "Do you hear that?"

Draco listened. It was his mother thumping against the wall several doors down. She was probably trying to escape the room. Draco didn't know when he started tuning her out.

"Looks like it’ll be a bit longer," Draco said weakly. He walked over to his bookcase, fervent for a distraction. "Do you read?" 

"Not really, no. Spend most of my timing trying to figure out how to kill Voldemort —"

"Voldemort is dead, Potter. It's time for you to pick up another excuse." Draco chose a book and tossed it to Harry. "Here, try this one. You can bring it back next time."

Harry caught the book without looking at it. "What’s going on with the manor?"

"It’s always been like this."

"I thought you liked growing up here."

"No. Well. It was alright."

"I didn’t like growing up either," Harry confessed.

"Oh, really? I can’t imagine growing up with Muggles." In Draco's mind, Harry's room didn't look much different than Draco's own—other than the telly. Rich was rich, and Harry was the Golden Boy, so he must've been a pampered poodle.

But Harry was chewing his lip like that wasn't true. "It was—people say what I had wasn’t right. That the Muggles didn’t treat me right." 

Draco paused, suddenly afraid. "What are you trying to say?"

"They were —" Harry's breath stalled. His eyes fogged as though seeing a faraway fear. Draco was gripped with the realisation that Harry didn't like growing up with the Dursleys; that living with the Dursleys may have been akin to living in a cage.

I get it," Draco said, perfectly still, because he understood that fear. It was the type of fear that made you afraid of touching anything around you, so you didn't move much at all.

But Harry had escaped, and Draco hadn't.

Harry read Draco's book because there wasn’t much else to do in the summer after the war.

Draco wrote notes in the margins, things like "haha" and "no joke" and "ohh didn’t see this coming". It was as lovely of a conversation he ever had with Draco. When Harry finished, he felt like he met another person entirely.

Harry was still thinking about this the next week in Draco's bedroom, wondering things like if that mouth had actually laughed when Draco'd written it in the margins. He stared at Draco so much that he started stammering when Draco asked him what he was looking at.

"Am I really so terribly attractive?" Draco teased.

"Not terribly. Maybe a bit, yea," Harry admitted, although he didn’t know why. There was something about being in Draco’s bedroom that made him too honest. Like the last time, when he talked about the Dursleys—the cupboard. Ron and Hermione had grown up in good homes, so their sympathy always felt forced. Like they knew they were supposed to feel a strong reaction to what Harry was telling them because it was upsetting, and cruel, and wrong, but since they'd never gone down that path themselves, they always ended up talking so circuitously that the sympathy wasn't worth the accompanying annoyance.

Harry didn't expect Draco to be the one who finally understood him—the one who travelled down the same path.

"You do," Draco was saying flatly.

Harry felt his face burn. "Yea. I said a bit."

"Like the way you find a plate attractive, or like the way you find girls attractive?"

"I don’t find plates attractive."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Like the way you see someone before you kiss them."

Harry didn't know why Draco was making a big deal about it. Unless — "You want me to kiss you?"

"If you want to."

Harry walked over and held Draco by the chin. "Has anyone ever kissed you?"

Draco blushed indignantly. "Does it matter?"

"You haven’t," Harry surmised. "So you want me to kiss you, to know what it’s like."

"It doesn’t have to stop at kissing."

"Jesus."

Draco's eyes slid off to the side, his face staying perfectly still under Harry's grip. "You don’t have to if you don’t want to."

"Jesus. No, I want to."

Draco took a steadying breath, trembling under Harry's fingers before turning Harry to the edge of his bed. Harry sat next to him and gripped the back of his head. The way they were approaching it felt weirdly surgical. They gave no teasing looks, no flirty smiles, but Harry's heart was racing all the same, and the way Draco was biting his lower lip waiting for Harry to kiss him made blood pool in Harry’s groin. Harry almost wanted to see if Draco would give in first, but somehow he knew that Draco would always wait for him to act first, like he was waiting for a command. He was surprised how much he liked knowing that.

When Harry finally leaned down, Draco's lips were soft, and he smelled like something expensive and bitter. He shook the whole time, but he never asked Harry to stop.

Draco wasn’t disappointed that they didn't have sex the first time, even though he already bought the oil and the condoms and stashed them in a box under his bed. If not this time then they’d do it the next. There was something in the way Harry moved that made Draco trust that if he would always follow through, even if it wasn't logical. Harry had the sort of personality that did things first and then later explained why in a helpless, "I couldn’t not" kind of way.

Draco looked at his reflection in the mirror and touched a finger to his mouth. Harry had been an unexpectedly adept kisser, so skilful that he must have kissed a whole roster of girls like Ginny to get good at it. Draco pictured Harry sitting with Ginny on a ruffled bed, posters of girls riding unicorns hung on the wall. Maybe Harry had gripped her jaw too and looked into her eyes until she shook; although Draco doubted it. Ginny seemed like the type who went for what she wanted. Draco was the type to wait around letting other people make decisions for him until it was too late for him to say no.

Harry came around a few days later when Andromeda wasn’t visiting, so Draco knew he came for him. 

"I wasn’t expecting you," Draco said, which was true if only because he’d been more hoping than expecting.

"Is now a bad time? Sorry, I should have owled before."

"It’s a good time. You don't need to send an owl, because I’m always here."

"Err. Yea. I thought we could go on a drive. There're some real nice spots along the coast."

"I can’t leave the house."

"Oh. I forgot," Harry said, squinting, not exactly apologetic.

Harry probably thought that Draco was under house arrest. He wasn’t, but it was easier this way. So he said, "I can think of better things to do inside."

Draco sat on his bed when they got to his bedroom. Harry stayed up, pacing. He said, "Look, last time. We were a bit rushed."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "You said you wanted to."

"I did. I do. Just — look, I’m just going to come out and say it. Are you going to tell anyone?"

Draco couldn't help his smirk. He loved it when he held Harry at a disadvantage, even if he'd never actually act on it. "I don’t have anyone to tell, Potter."

"Oh come off it. I know you and Skeeter are close."

"Not exactly, no. But I can promise that I wouldn't tell. No one else has to know."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Draco tried to not be hurt. He forgot it all when Harry kissed him again, pushing aside the silk fabric of his robes to rut against Draco's bare groin.

Draco curled his hand over Harry's chest. "You can — if you want, you can put it in —"

Harry laughed shakily. "Jesus. Let’s start easy, okay?" He placed a calloused hand over Draco's cock. Draco tried to reciprocate, but Harry batted his hand away, saying, "Don’t move. I want to fuck your mouth later," which was so hot that Draco almost came right then.

It was in late August when they finally had sex. Harry hadn't done it with a guy before, but he knew enough to warm the oil between his fingers before circling Draco’s arsehole. He felt a careless, lightheadedness knowing that no one else would be privy to what they were doing. He could mess up a million times, and only he and Draco would know. It wasn’t like that with the press or even with Ron and Hermione—especially Hermione. He wished he could forget the time Hermione cornered him after the first time he and Ginny had sex. She'd copied an anatomically detailed diagram of a vagina out of an encyclopedia.

To be honest, Harry was still surprised Draco even let him on the bed. Harry hadn’t showered since Quidditch in the morning, and he’d gotten out of the car before the dust settled, so dirt was caked on his skin and rubbing off on Draco’s perfumed, perfect body.

Draco moaned under him, squirming around a finger all over the sheets, heavy cock rutting against them. 

"Don’t move," Harry urged with his hand on Draco's back. Draco stilled immediately. Harry could feel his own breath, hot and sticky against the nape of Draco's neck. The sun was in his eyes. He was overwhelmed with the things Draco did when it was just the two of them. He could come from thinking about that alone.

Afterwards, Draco said, "You’re not going to talk to me at school.

Harry couldn't tell if it was a question or a command. "Well, we’re in different houses," he said slowly, not really giving an answer to either.

"This was a summer thing anyway."

"Okay. If you say it is." Harry didn't feel like it was just a summer thing, but if Draco wanted it that way, then that was that. Harry couldn't deny that it was logical to end things between them after summer, because Hogwarts kept people too close. They’d get caught.

Although Draco was the only Slytherin to return when school started again, not too many of the other houses returned either. In fact, so few Slytherins were sorted this year that they mixed up all the first years and put the eighth years where the first year Slytherins used to sleep.

Draco was watching the curtains move in the bed across from his. He thought maybe it was the bed that he’d slept in his first year. He couldn’t be sure; he’d had a lot more going on for him back then to care about where he slept.

He thought the bed was Dean Thomas's. A freckled hand pushed out of the curtains to grip at the edge of the mattress. The curtains started to sway rhythmically over it.

Draco made a face and looked away, catching Harry staring at him from the end of the row. Harry ducked his head and turned back his Quidditch gear. Whatever he was putting on his broom made the whole room smell like medicine.

Draco fell back onto his bed and stared at the bunk above his. At least Dean Thomas was adept at silencing charms. It was the small things that counted.

He wondered who was with Dean. He thought maybe it was Ginny Weasley. He didn’t know anyone else who had freckled hands, but perhaps he wasn’t looking hard enough. He thought about closing his own curtains and moaning in them, make like he was playing with his arse. Maybe he'd charm the curtains to shake like he was in the middle of fucking someone else, to see if Harry would notice, or get jealous. He was desperate for Harry’s attention. He’d do anything.

Ron entered the room then and scowled when he saw Draco there. "Pickup Quidditch, Harry?"

Draco could feel Harry perking up. He said, "Yeah, sure gimmie a sec to get changed. Malfoy?"

It was the first time that Harry acknowledged Draco since coming back to Hogwarts.

Draco thought of how Ron and the others would react if he agreed to come. Would they even play? What would they do if Draco came up from behind Harry and touched him under the ear, where he shivered? It was so much power, knowing somebody’s body that way. It was like you held complete control over them, like they existed just for you, even though they didn’t, really.

Draco waved them off.

"Suit yourself," Ron said, too self-satisfied.

Draco rolled his eyes. His aunt had written that morning to let him know that Lucius’s sentence had been negotiated down to five years in Azkaban. Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He had five years of freedom. Maybe he would go down the halls and find someone to be reckless with, to celebrate. He could glamour himself, and it wouldn’t have to be anything but easy. He could even try to pull Harry under glamour. No, Harry would probably notice. He was weirdly attuned to little things like that.

Harry finished getting dressed and hesitated for a second by Draco's bed on his way out. He cast a wary glance over at the moving curtains—probably afraid that he’d be overheard talking to Draco Malfoy. Or maybe Harry recognised the freckles. "I arranged a driver for Andromeda," he whispered after a while.

Draco didn’t meet his eyes. "Should’ve thought of that at the start of summer."

"Right." He left. 

Draco’s stomach clenched. He got up to quill a reply to Andromeda, as a distraction.

Draco wasn’t in his bed in the dorms on Saturday. Harry checked. Hermione said he didn’t show for the Rebuilding Committee meeting either, so Harry concluded that something was up. That or Draco’d started fucking someone else seriously enough to stay the night. Harry knew that wasn’t likely—nobody even wanted to talk to Draco these days—but once he started thinking about it, he couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it through the whole next week. On Monday he mentally walked down the list of eighth years. On Tuesday, the seventh year Gryffindors. Whoever Draco was with, he didn’t seem to meet them on the weekdays, because he was alone in his bed every night. Harry knew because he checked the map, so he waited for the weekend.

Harry didn’t know what he’d do if he discovered Draco with someone else. Draco had every right, although Harry hated to admit it. It was like the feeling Harry got when he caught Ron having a slice of treacle tart when Harry was trying to swear them off during Quidditch season. It was like—if he wasn't allowed, then nobody else should be allowed either.

Then Saturday came, and Draco wasn't in his bunk. Draco wasn’t anywhere at Hogwarts when Harry checked the map. So then Harry knew Draco was with Narcissa. 

"I’ve — there’s something I gotta check on at Grimmauld," he lied to Ron and Hermione at Hogsmeade that Sunday and they only acted half-concerned. They always welcomed time alone these days. So Harry took the Floo to Grimmauld, then another Floo to the butcher in Wiltshire, and then Apparated the rest of the distance.

It was colder in Wiltshire and Harry should have brought a thicker jumper. He stood outside the door and shuffled his feet. He wasn’t sure why he was here. It wasn’t like he could do anything for Narcissa. He couldn’t even do anything for Draco. Harry thought it might be better if he just left, but he’d come so far, so he couldn’t stop now.

Draco opened the door. "I wasn’t expecting you," he said. His voice was hoarse like he’d been shouting. Harry knew then that he had to get inside. He had to touch Draco, to make sure he was still all there.

"Is now a bad time?"

"I — no." Draco bit his lip. "I got her to sleep."

"Can I come in?"

Draco hesitated. "I’m not —"

"Let me in," Harry demanded.

Draco stepped aside, holding the door open.

Harry led them to Draco’s bedroom. "Is it still unsafe for me?" he asked once they were inside.

"It’s okay in here."

"Okay. That’s good. Have you eaten?"

"What are you doing here?"

Harry scratched the back of his head, unsure of how to put it into words. Coming here was more of a physical response than a logical decision. Harry wanted to crush Draco under his weight. He wanted to search Draco's body and make sure that everything was as he left it.

He was looking at Draco’s mouth when Draco wetted it, like he was nervous, and said, "Alright."

Everything was alright again once they were back on the bed. Harry could feel the warm loveliness of Draco’s shoulders against his chest. He breathed in the smell of Draco’s soap, the one that made him smelled like a lilac field in summer, sweaty and salty and fragrant; soapy, a little bitter, like tea. Draco moaned under him, whispered his name until Harry told him to stop. Then Draco was completely quiet, quiet even when he came on Harry’s insistence. Harry didn’t know why he let Draco convince him that it wouldn’t work between them at school. They’d only sneak around a bit. Or he could come on the weekends, and it’d — it’d be worth it. He was stupid to give this up.

"You’re still not going to tell anyone, are you?" Harry asked afterwards. Draco was pressed against his chest, breathing heavily still.

"No," Draco said, pushing away. The sheets were tangled around their ankles, and a breeze picked up a bit from the open window. Soon their sweat would cool, and it’d get too cold for them to stay like this, so it wasn’t as though they could’ve stayed cocooned together for much longer. Still, Harry couldn’t help but feel that Draco was deliberately trying to move away from him.

"It’s better like this," Harry reasoned. It really was. This way, they could be anyone they wanted with each other. No one would influence them or try to convince them that they were terrible for each other. Because the reality was, there was no world where anyone would want Harry to be with Draco. Draco was a Death Eater. Even Harry didn’t know what he saw in Draco. It was more of a feeling than really knowing.

"Merlin, Potter, can you drop it? I’ve not the intention of telling anyone about this, so you can stop assuming that I’m going to go announcing to the world that I’ve started slagging it for the Saviour."

Harry tensed. "Do you want me to leave?"

"I don’t care what you do."

"Jesus. I’m sorry, alright? I won’t bring it up anymore. I didn’t mean to upset you."

Harry swallowed. He could read the accusation straight from Draco’s eyes.  _ Then why did you come? _ But then Draco blinked twice and came back to bed.

Harry didn’t know if he was taking advantage of Draco. Everything with Draco seemed like a grey area. He always said yes, even when it was clear that he was hurting. It was unfortunate that Draco didn't understand that it was better this way.

Harry wasn't trying to be cruel, he convinced himself. It was only a matter of convincing Draco too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 💛 You can find me on [dw](https://fwooshy.dreamwidth.org/) and [tumblr](https://fw00shy.tumblr.com/).


	2. Chapter 2

Draco started taking his bath earlier on Sundays so he'd be ready when Harry inevitably trickled in around the afternoon. The afternoons were safer than the mornings because they were good even on Narcissa's bad days. But they still weren't safe, and there was always a chance that Draco would have to ask Harry to wait for hours outside of the gate.

"So what did you do?" Draco asked after one of those bad days.

Harry shrugged. "Laid out on the lawn."

"Were you bored?"

Harry considered it before shaking his head. "Not really. It was nice."

Draco ran out of things to say, so they moved to the bed.

Sometimes when they had sex, it was lazy. They'd both be on their sides, facing each other, or one of them would be pushed against the other, and then they'd rub each other off with the laziest of wrist rotations. When they did it like that, the orgasms seemed to meld together like a sort of kaleidoscopic tie-dye swirl. The pleasure weighed so heavy in Draco's brain that he hazed out and then came back in chasing another high. When they were like this, they'd talk in the interludes about things like a Muggle book or Quidditch; safe things like "Hermione tells me you're in the rebuilding committee."

"Oh, right. That was part of my probation requirements."

"She says you're picking up a lot of the paperwork."

"Right." He was doing more than he needed to, for sure. He would've signed up for the committee regardless of if it was required or not. It didn't matter though because his intentions were driven by guilt in any case. They weren't pure.

Draco didn't know why Harry was asking these questions. It was like Harry was trying to probe through him, see if there was actually something worthwhile under that Dark Mark worth salvaging. Like Draco's body was a drowned shipwreck.

Draco wanted Harry to like him. He didn't know why he felt that so strongly. But it was enough for him to say, "It's my fault." 

Harry didn't say anything, so Draco continued. "It's my fault the castle is fucked up. I let the fucked up in. I'm fucked up. But they still let me back."

"I know."

"They shouldn't have let me back. I'm bad. Professor McGonagall knows I'm bad, but she still let me back."

Harry still didn't say anything, so Draco took it to mean that he agreed. Draco said, "I think you should leave." And then he locked himself in the bathroom and counted to a thousand.

Draco was entitled to his bad days too.

The Rebuilding Committee met every Wednesday at six. The work was spread throughout the week, so Draco ended up doing things for it maybe three or four times a week, more often with Hermione in tow. Draco thought of Hermione as his chaperone or a prison ward. A fair one. She wasn't friendly, but the others were worse, so she gave him tasks that he could do independently. But it still required talking to her more than he wanted to.

"We're going to plan a ball," she told him. She never smiled around him.

He wrote down, "Ball."

"It'll be open to all fourth years and above. We'll have a separate event during the day for the younger students. I'm thinking, maybe a sort of mini Olympics competition that the older students can cheer them on for if they've got the time. And then in the evening, we'd hold a ball. What do you think?"

He raised a brow. "Do you care?"

"My mum said that two minds are always better than one."

"I'm sure you can find another mind to ask."

"Draco."

She was always calling him by his first name. He wanted to tell her to stop. Even Harry didn't do that.

"It's a good idea," Draco admitted. "What's the theme?"

"Inter-house Cooperation."

He couldn't resist a snort.

"What?" She put her hands on her hips.

"That's not a theme. That's a goal. No one's going to bite if you let on the plot too early."

"Alright then, what's your idea for a theme?"

"Literally anything would be better. Unicorns. Trolls. Make the whole thing underwater. Have everyone dress in neon. Flowers. Longbottom would love that one. Make the whole thing a herbaceous orgy."

Her eyes widened. "Some of these are — not the orgy, no, but I can work with some of these ideas. I'd have to get them vetted through the sensitivity committee first, of course, but —" she gave Draco a sharp look. "Why aren't you writing this down?"

Draco wrote it down.

They walked back to the dorms together. It would've been awkward not to. And Draco liked that there was a sort of aura around Hermione that made people step back. He could tell that it embarrassed her, but he benefited from the extra space.

Hermione always looked smart these days, with a clipboard in her hand and her hair pulled back in a bun. Draco was pretty sure she knew what she was going to do after Hogwarts. She wasn't like him, or Harry.

Sometimes on the weekends, he and Harry talked about their future. Things like, "I wanted to be an Auror."

Harry tucked a strand of hair behind Draco's ear. "Really? Your dad would've let you?"

"Of course not. I said I wanted to, not that I was going to."

"Oh, right. There's a distinction," Harry teased.

Draco huffed. "Well, what did you want to be anyway? Let me guess: Quidditch superstar."

"Thought about it."

"Auror?"

"Jesus. That's what everyone says."

"But you aren't going to?"

"No, I probably will."

"But you don't want to."

"Yeah." Harry looked away. He always changed the subject when they talked too much about him. It was like he was afraid of what he'd see when he looked too closely at himself. "Well. I'm not sure. Might as well give it a shot."

"Why would you do it if you don't want to? I can't imagine your options are so limited as —"

"It's. Well, everyone says I'd be good at it."

"Who said you'd be good as an  _ Auror? _ You're awful at following rules, half their job is literally  _ paperwork _ —"

"I can follow rules."

Draco scoffed. "And why would you ever think you'd be good at something you don't like? You have to love it to be good at it."

"Do you love everything you're good at?"

No, Draco thought. He was great at following the rules. He was great at doing what others want him to do. But he hated it.

"So I'm right," Harry insisted.

Draco shook his head. "Have you ever considered anything else, though?"

"What are you going to do?"

"I — I don't know." Technically he didn't have to work. His father wanted him to follow in his footsteps and take over the Manor. He'd try to get a Ministry position if possible, but it wasn't  _ necessary _ , not for the income anyway; it was only about prestige. 

"See," Harry said, and leaned over and pushed him back on the bed.

Durmstrang came over for a casual Quidditch match, so the school set up a bracket with various configurations of the two school's houses. Harry wasn't sure, because he wasn't interested. Harry stopped playing for the team this year because he wanted to give Ginny a chance at Seeker, so he didn't know why people kicked up a fuss when he didn't go. Even Ron confronted him about it later in the common room, saying, "You missed a really great game."

"Yeah, where were you?" Dean butted in.

Harry shrugged. "Must've slept through it."

"That's not possible," Ron insisted. "They brought vuvuzelas."

"Sorry." Harry shook the fog from his mind. "I meant I was sleeping at Grimmauld," he lied. His eyes briefly flitted over to Draco, who was reading near the fire. He wore a pair of glasses that Harry didn't notice before.

Hermione was saying something that Harry asked her to repeat.

"Are you feeling alright?" she said instead.

Harry had been feeling great, but now he wasn't so sure. He thought that he should say he wasn't feeling well. It would be an easy way out of it. Hermione would say, "Oh, Harry," and Ron would turn away. It was like they couldn't believe he could be happy if he wasn't doing the same things as them. No, that wasn't it. It wasn't their fault that he was too much of a coward to tell them what made him happy. He hated how everything with Draco was always like this, how he could never feel just one thing when it came to Draco. It had to be this convoluted mess of conflicting emotions.

Draco got up. Harry's eyes followed him up the stairs to the dorms. 

"He's not up to anything, you know," Hermione said.

Ron snorted. "Who says."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "I say. He always excuses himself on the weekends to see his mother."

Harry looked at her. "He told you that?"

"Of course not. I asked McGonagall."

Harry let out a sigh. He'd been worried that Hermione would get close to Draco because maybe he'd tell her.

"What a mummy's boy," Ron sneered.

"Oh, come of it, Ron," Hermione defended. "You're practically the crowned prince of mum's boys. Draco's been awfully helpful at rebuilding. Did you know he's helping me plan the ball? Neither of you even signed up for the committee."

"Really? Do you think I should?" Harry asked.

"Ah. Well." Hermione hesitated, backpedalling. "You might be more of a distraction."

Harry sat up straight. "I want to help, though. Maybe if you partner me up with Malfoy, then I could keep an eye on him, and the others would leave us both alone."

Ron started to laugh. "You didn't defeat Voldemort just to babysit Death Eater Jr."

But Hermione said, "No, it's a good idea if you want to do it, Harry. Although, like I said, he's not actually doing anything."

"What's the ball going to be about anyway?" Ron asked. Harry tuned them out.

The ball preparations continued. Since it was Draco's idea, Hermione insisted that he sit in all the council meetings beside her. On the council were five other graduating year students from varying houses. On this particular day, they'd all gathered to test out various spells for decorations.

"I don't think I want to be around when Malfoy has a wand out," one of them—Bennett—said.

"Heard his mother's sick. Serves him right," Ernie said.

Hermione told him to watch his words, but Bennett only doubled down, insisting, "You don't mind, Malfoy, don't you? You know we're joking."

Draco couldn't breathe. Harry was looking at him and then away and then back. Like this, over and over.

"Don't be a spoilsport, Malfoy," Ernie said.

Draco left the room and willed his heart to stop racing. Hermione, Bennett, and Harry followed him out.

"You're fine, aren't you?" Bennett kept on insisting.

"Shut up, Bennett," Harry said between grit teeth.

Bennett crossed his arms. "Aw, come on. We were just joking. How's your mother, Malfoy? We go way back. Narcissa used to have us over for biscuits and tea. Tell her, Malfoy."

Draco looked up at Hermione, who was looking at Harry. Harry was looking at Draco like he was trying to make up his mind. Bennett kept talking.

Harry shoved Bennett up against the wall. "I told you to shut up."

"Harry!"

Harry dropped him. He helped Draco up instead. "I'll take him back."

Hermione looked like she was going to say more, but she didn't stop them from leaving.

"Sorry," Draco said. "I shouldn't have let it get to me."

"You did nothing wrong."

"Bennett's right —"

Harry growled. "No. You've repented, so you get to move on. He hasn't repented. It's not fair."

Draco said, "Yeah. It's not." He wanted to lean upon Harry. He didn't know if it was allowed. None of this was allowed. He brushed his arm up against Harry's anyway.

Harry pushed him up against a wall and kissed him before pulling away. "This weekend," he promised. And then he didn't say another word, even as he followed Draco into the dorms and watched as Draco crawled onto his bed. Draco didn't know what he was supposed to do. It was too early to sleep. He hadn't even brushed his teeth yet. But he got the feeling that Harry wanted him on his bed, so he laid there and looked up at the bunk above pretending to sleep until Harry went back downstairs. Then he went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth and thought about Harry for the rest of the night.

"I think Hermione is getting suspicious," Harry said that Sunday. He was doing his Muggle Studies homework on the floor of Draco's bedroom. Draco was up on the bed.

"Smart witch," Draco said without stopping his writing.

"Did you tell her anything?"

Draco rolled his eyes. He had his glasses on, the ones he never wore at Hogwarts.

"Don't ignore me." Harry swiped at Draco's parchment.

"Hey!" Draco yelped. "Alright then, what'd you tell her you were doing on the weekends?"

"Fixing up Grimmauld."

"And did she buy it?"

"Think so."

"So what's the problem."

Harry was probably just being paranoid again. He looked down at the parchment he stole. "What're you working on anyway? This looks like Muggle printer paper."

"I'm applying to college."

"What? Muggle college?"

"I thought I'd have a better chance there than in the wizarding world. Plus a lot of the classes seem interesting. Want to see?" He tossed Harry a course catalogue.

Harry flipped to a random page. "Biology 101. Neurobiology. Bioengineering. What's the difference between them?"

Draco shrugged. "Figure that's why I'd go, to learn what that stuff's about."

Harry closed the catalogue. "Where'd you get this idea anyway?"

"Muggle studies."

"Right."

Draco laughed. "Don't give me that look. If I had actually known anything about Muggles, I would've considered them a more formidable ally."

"Sure."

"Can I have it back?"

Harry ignored him. "So what are you going to apply for anyway?"

"Figure I'd decide once I get there. It says you can go in undeclared. I think that means without choosing a focus. Want me to get you a set of forms as well? The Ministry has a liaison program with a university near London and not too many wizards want to do it, so it's pretty easy for us to get in."

Harry hesitated before saying no. But the following Monday there was a crisp application placed on the pillow of his bed.

Draco wanted Harry's attention, so he took Harry's participation in the committee as another sign that he'd gotten it. The problem was that Hermione also told Ron, which meant Ron also joined the Rebuilding Committee and started getting assigned tasks with Harry and Draco too.

Draco didn't hate Ron so much as he couldn't stand him. Ron was loud and hard-headed and impetuous and hated change, and since Draco had changed, that meant that he hated Draco more than ever. And even if Ron wasn't outright suspicious of Draco, he couldn't stop talking about wanting to hook up Harry with his sister.

"She's dating Dean," Harry said one evening when they were cutting out decorations.

"No, she's not," Ron said. "They broke it off. She told me that she was only dating him to get your attention anyway."

"That's ridiculous."

"Yeah, she's dumb. But I still know that you're meant to be together."

"Jesus." Harry cast a glance at Draco.

Ron followed his gaze. "Oh, stop being a prude. It's not like Malfoy's going to tell anyone, are you?"

"I don't give a fuck about which redhead Harry wants to stick it in next," Draco sneered.

Ron made a face. "You're a disgusting pig, Malfoy. Don't you dare talk about my sister like that —"

"You started it," Draco muttered.

"Stop it," Harry said. "Ron, I don't want to date Ginny."

Ron turned to Harry, his tone softening. "Give her another chance. I know she's an idiot, but she's well-meaning, and well — didn't you, I mean, she was really hurt when you broke it off with her, but then you barely even tried getting back with her over the summer."

"I don't know what to tell you, Ron."

"And you slept with her. Doesn't that mean anything?"

Harry went bright red.

Draco laughed. He didn't mean to. It was just so ironic how Ron was talking around Draco like he was some sort of furniture. Draco couldn't imagine the havoc he'd create if he told Ron who Harry was hooking up with these days. Not like it meant anything. Sleeping around was just sleeping around.

"No one's talking to you, Malfoy."

"I am," Harry said softly, too soft for Ron to hear.

Still, Draco couldn't help but feel jealous.

"I don't like her," Harry said that weekend. Draco had asked about Ginny.

"She's really pretty."

"Still not interested."

"Good at Quidditch."

"Jesus, Draco."

"Did you really sleep with her?"

"I did, alright?" It was so dumb how much of a big deal everyone made of him sleeping with Ginny. Things were so much simpler with Draco, where things were kept only between the two of them.

"When?" Draco asked.

"Early in summer."

"Was it good?"

"It was alright."

"But not good enough to continue."

"Are you fishing for a compliment? Fine, alright? It wasn't good. It's nothing like with you."

Draco bit his lip.

"It's not," Harry echoed softly. He didn't know how it'd come to be this way. But the way Draco moved against him in bed and the way Harry thought about him after made his time with Ginny feel like nothing. There was something about Draco that completely opened Harry up inside that had nothing to do with the type of person he was or what he liked or what his favourite colour was. It was something deeper, on a more primal level. Like it was fate.

"Why don't you come and convince me then," Draco said coyly. He sounded so fake that Harry laughed before he followed Draco onto the bed.

They were more comfortable with each other now. Harry knew more or less what Draco liked, to the point where he could stop thinking and enjoy the movements for what they were.

"Is it good?" Draco asked from beneath him.

"Huh?" Harry snapped back into focus, his hands gripping Draco's hip bones so tight he left marks. "Yeah, of course." He bent down and nuzzled the back of Draco's neck and felt Draco's whole body shiver. "Is it good?"

"Yes," Draco moaned.

Later, Harry asked why he'd asked if it was good, because Draco never asked before, and he was worried that Draco wasn't saying something that bothered him.

"It's nothing," Draco tried saying.

Harry pressed his nail into Draco's big toe.

"Merlin, alright. You were so quiet. I wasn't sure."

Harry looked into grey eyes. "It's always good with you. You have to believe me."

Draco shook his head. "It can't always be good."

"Are you not telling me something?" He wanted Draco to understand, but he didn't know how to explain it. That was always his fear with Draco. That Draco wouldn't like what they were doing but wouldn't say anything about it, and then he'd leave, and Harry would be blindsided by it.

"What?"

"You should tell me when it's not good."

Draco blinked. "It's — it's always good," he mumbled. "But it can't always be good."

Harry laughed in relief. "The future is for the future."

"Right," Draco smirked. Harry felt like Draco was making fun of him. It bothered him sometimes, but less than it should've.

Hermione had thought it was a good idea for them to cover Muggle proms during Muggle Studies, especially now that the NEWTs were over. As a result, a lot of people started asking their dates out in increasingly public ways. 

Ginny started to harass Draco. "I know you've been hanging out with Harry a lot lately."

"Also with your brother," Draco said. He tried walking faster.

She was stupidly tall and sped up without missing a step. "I want to know if Harry's told you anything about the ball."

"We work on the decorations together. The ball is all we talk about."

"No, I mean. Is Harry going to ask anyone?" Ginny persisted.

Draco considered telling her a lot of things. He could start with how her brother had told Draco that she'd slept with Harry. Or he could say that Harry had compared sex with her to having sex with a sack of potatoes. 

He was trying to stay out of trouble these days.

"Don't know," he said a bit too nonchalantly.

She narrowed her eyes. "Tell me what you know."

"I don't know!" he said. He pushed his way into class and took a seat. She didn't follow him in. Harry looked over at him briefly before looking away when Mirabelle came up to him with a sly smile.

Draco didn't think Harry would go with Ginny, not after what he'd said about her. But he wasn't sure he wouldn't go with anyone else. Thinking about it made him sick to the stomach. He swallowed, breathing hard. Professor Binns' mouth opened and closed, but Draco couldn't hear him over the roar in his ears.

"Nothing is going on," Harry said in the common room the next day.

"You're always staring at him," Hermione accused.

"Jesus."

"You are."

"So? I stared at him all of sixth year too."

"That's because he was  _ suspicious _ ."

"He's always suspicious," Harry lied.

Hermione crossed her arms. "That would explain why you won't date Ginny."

"I — what? How did it — why can I just not date her just because I don't want to?"

"Ugh that's disgusting, Hermione," Ron butt in. "There's no way Harry would date Draco Malfoy. First of all, he's a Death Eater. Second of all, he's a bully. Third of all, his family is all Death Eaters —"

"Teddy's his family," Harry said softly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "That doesn't count. He hadn't been tainted by the family tree yet —"

"Stop it, Ron," Hermione exasperated.

But in the end, Harry decided that there was no real reason why he couldn't ask Ginny to the ball. It was just the ball, it didn't mean they were dating or anything. And it wasn't like he could take Draco to the ball, so he might as well make Ginny and Ron and everyone else happy by taking her. It was what everyone expected from him, anyway.

But then Draco wasn't at school the next day or the day after. On the day after Harry skipped class and spent the afternoon trying to get into the Manor. Trying to see Draco. But Draco didn't answer. Harry went back to Grimmauld place and tried sending an owl. He tried sending Kreacher. Nothing. Finally, Ron and Hermione found him sitting on the dusty steps.

"It doesn't look like you've done a thing to this place," Hermione said slowly because Harry was supposed to have been renovating the place.

"I know," Harry said. He put his head in his hands.

Hermione sat down next to him. "Can you leave for a moment, Ron?"

Ron twisted his mouth.

"Ronald. What have I said about trusting me?"

He left.

She crouched down next to him. "This is about Draco, isn't it."

He nodded. He felt so helpless.

"I take it he wasn't happy about Ginny."

Harry's breath hitched. "How can someone just leave school like that, without properly graduating?"

"Well, technically, school ends with the NEWTs examinations. The rest is just superfluous. But that's not why you're here."

"No," Harry agreed.

'You're an idiot," she said too fondly.

"I know."

"You've always been obsessed with him."

"I know."

"Why did you hide it?"

He looked up. "I was afraid."

"Of what? You're so obvious about it. You look at him every time he's in the room. You can't stop looking at him. It's so obvious."

He was afraid of what his friends would think. But maybe he shouldn't have been so scared of Hermione, even if he was scared of Ron. Besides, he didn't think he was so obvious. Ron hadn't noticed.

"So what're you going to do now?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "Nothing I can do."

"Are you going to ask Draco to the ball instead?"

Harry shook his head. "I gave Ron my word. I'm still taking Ginny," he said.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, frowning. "It's not good for anyone if your heart's not really into it."

"Ron's right, alright? He's a Death Eater." He couldn't have Draco, because Draco was a Death Eater. That was just how the world worked.

Draco answered the door to his Aunt Andromeda. "Harry's out there waiting in the car," she said with a disapproving look. Draco ignored her. He looked down at the car parked out in front of the Manor. Harry stared back at him from the car window. Draco went back in and closed the door behind him.

"Cissy tells me you're going off to the Muggle university," Andromeda said as they made their way down the hall to his mother's room.

"Yes," Draco said. It was only the start of summer, but it felt like his life had been put on pause since he came home.

"Harry says he's going to Muggle university as well. Did you know that?"

Draco had suggested it. "No, I didn't."

They stood in front of his mother's door. Andromeda turned to him. "Don't lie," she admonished. "You'll wrinkle."

Draco chuckled. "You sound like my mother."

She grinned, putting her hand on the doorknob. They both quieted then, listening for Narcissa inside. She was crying, which meant it would be an average day.

Draco went back to his bedroom and thought about Harry waiting outside in his car. Draco knew that Harry felt guilty about everything. He'd sent owl after owl about it before he started showing up at the Manor again. The owls were all about the same. "I don't like her that way." "I didn't mean anything by it." "It's just what people wanted. It didn't mean anything." "You're who I want." "I'm sorry." "I was an ass." "But you said it was okay."

Draco did.

He thought it would be okay. But it wasn't, in the end.

Draco didn't know why he let it go on for so long.

He walked to the windowsill and looked out at the birds in the maple tree outside. He thought about college. He really hoped he and Harry hadn't been placed in the same college. Probably not, he thought. They were interested in totally different things. The chances were slim.

He turned back inside and climbed into bed, where he stared at the ceiling and waited for his life to start up again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I had to write a fest fic, but now that it's done, I'm back to this!
> 
> This chapter is not betaed. None of this fic will be betaed, because I just want to have fun on this fic!!
> 
> I'm also adding the following warnings for this chapter (skip if you don't want spoilers). I've also tagged them for the overall fic.
> 
> \- loss of parent(s)  
> \- minor luna lovegood/harry potter

Harry wasn’t sure why he thought breaking the news to his friends was going to be easy. Hermione blinked and blinked again. Ron said, "But you filled out all the Auror paperwork. I thought we were going to be partners."

Harry already wasn't getting on with Ron since he slept with Ginny again, only to break up with her the day after. He was pretty sure that nothing he could say would make it better. Maybe a clean break was better in the end.

"I wanted to try something different," Harry tried explaining.

"That’s great, Harry. I’m happy for you." Hermione put a hand over his. "Where did you get this idea from anyway?"

"Muggle studies," Harry lied. But he didn't know who he was trying to fool, because it was so apparent that it was all for Draco.

But readjusting to Muggle life was a challenge. Harry was surprised at how his fame, however unwanted, had nevertheless become part of his identity. He'd underestimate the difficulty of having to start over, make new friends, and build up credibility in a currency he didn’t understand. He didn’t know how to buy things, and people looked at him differently because his shirts and trousers were weird and old and he didn't have the confidence to pull them off.

His roommate—Vikash—was nice enough to show him around campus. He even invited Harry to a party. But he had dinner plans prior, so Harry had eaten at the dining commons by himself before pacing around the dorm until it was late enough for him to go without it being awkward.

A girl he didn’t know opened the door. He asked her if Vikash was there. She didn't know, so Harry took a red cup and drank from it until Vikash showed up and said he'd introduce him to his friends. Vikash led him to the backyard where a group crowded around a picnic table that stank of weed.

Draco beamed out from the group like a welcome beacon. Except his legs pressed against another guy's, who had his arms around him.

"Harry!" Draco shouted. Harry wondered if that was how Draco greeted people these days. He wouldn't know. It felt like lifetimes since they'd spoken, though it'd only been months.

Draco got up to go to the kitchen and get another beer with Harry. "Haven't seen you in a while," he said.

"Yeah." Harry picked up a handle of Tito's and poured a splash into his cup. 

"How are things back at home?"

Fuck all this pretending. Harry hated how Draco acted like he hadn't been ignoring him for the last six months. Like they'd been friends, and nothing more. "I don't know. Nothing interesting," he said.

"You're boring me, Potter," Draco teased.

Harry wasn't sure he liked this new Draco. He thought Draco was probably different by himself, in his own room, with the door shut. But he didn't know that Draco anymore. Things had changed between them. Harry had changed them when he'd asked Ginny to the Ball.

"I don't know what to tell you. I've always been a bore."

"Sure," Draco drawled out, almost flirty.

"Your boyfriend know you flirt like this with everyone?"

Draco snorted. "Not with everyone."

"Alright," Harry said, thinking maybe that was the end of their conversation then. It felt like the end. He couldn't think of anything else to say. But Draco took a sip of his drink and didn't move, so Harry stayed, waiting.

Finally, Harry said, "You look good. You look happy."

"Sure I do," Draco agreed. "I look good when people don't hate me because I'm a Malfoy."

"No, I mean. You look like you fit in. Like you found your people."

"You think so?" he smiled, as though he hadn't noticed. Maybe Harry only noticed because he stuck out like a sore thumb. A lonely thumb.

After that, Harry saw a lot more of Draco. 

"You know when you listen to a song too many times, and it fades to the background, and you stop hearing it," Draco said in the car one night. They had been at another party. Harry was dropping Draco off at home, before going home himself. 

"Sort of," Harry said. A song played on the radio, but he didn't hear it until just now. So Harry understood what Draco was saying in that context, but he felt like maybe that wasn't what Draco had been getting at.

"Kausia is the sort of girl who blends in the background of parties so well that you stop seeing her there."

Harry sighed. He'd been talking to Kausia upstairs on the balcony. Draco must've seen them from the poolside below. "Can you make your point already?"

Draco huffed. "Are you fucking her?"

"Do I look like I'm on the way to fucking her?"

"I saw you talking to her."

"I saw you talking to Brendan."

"So?"

"So we talk to a lot of people. So what?"

"I just want to know. I don't know why you're acting cagey about it. I thought we were friends."

Draco was probably the closest thing Harry had to a friend, but Harry was pretty sure you weren't supposed to think about fucking your friends all the time. 

"Fine. I'm not fucking Kausia," Harry said, annoyed at himself for giving in so easily.

"But you want to."

"No, I don't."

Draco looked out the window. When he looked back, it was with a mean glint in his eyes. "The others are talking about you, you know. They think it's weird that you haven't so much as hooked up with anyone, even though you're so fit. They think you're hung up on some girl from home."

"It's something like that, yea," Harry said. He kept his eyes on the road and waited for Draco to say something. He didn't know how to make it any more obvious that he wanted Draco back, wanted him every day until it hurt.

Draco pulled his legs up on the seat and didn't say anything for a long time. So it was going to be like that.

Harry rounded the corner down the street to Draco's flat. Draco said, "I broke up with Brent."

"I'm sorry," Harry said. He stopped the car in front of Draco's flat and turned to face him. He wondered if this was when Draco would turn to him and lean in and kiss him. And then they'd pick up from where they left off last, and Harry would be whole again.

Draco kept looking out the window. "It is what it is." He breathed over the window, fogging up. Then he turned and leaned over toward Harry, but it was only to turn up the volume before he got out of the car.

Draco hated Ginny Weasley. He didn't know why he broke up with Brent, or why he wanted to punch Kausia. 

What he knew was that Harry looked miserable, and that made him happy.

Harry started coming over again because Draco had his own flat. Harry did things like take his shoes off at the door even though Draco never bothered himself. Draco started stocking butterbeer in the back of his fridge just because it was nostalgic and sweet and Harry liked it. He put it under a glamour and made it look like expired milk, in case someone else came over, but no one else ever did.

Harry was crouched over his laptop, sitting on the carpet at the foot of Draco's bed. Draco lounged on top of the covers, stretched out like a cat, tapping on his laptop. Muggles did all their work on laptops. It reminded Draco of when Harry would be in his room at the Manor without his mother thumping the walls.

"Have you decided what you’re going to major in?" Draco asked after he'd stopped typing mid-paragraph, unsure of how to continue. It was a good enough time as any to take a break. He rolled on his back and looked up at the ceiling.

"I don’t know. Something useful. Something I can use again when we go back home after we graduate." Harry shifted, probably to look at Draco. Draco didn't stop looking at the ceiling, so Harry turned back and asked, "What about you?"

Draco didn’t know. He had considered majoring in English because he liked reading, but writing up a paper on what he read felt like dissecting a unicorn down into ingredients. Besides, he didn’t see the purpose of focusing on one thing. He wanted to learn everything.

"I don’t think I’m going back," Draco said instead.

"What do you mean?"

"I don’t think I’m going back after this. Back to—back to magic." 

"Where would you go?" Harry sounded dubious, which was about what Draco expected.

Draco didn’t know where he'd go, but he'd be happy with anywhere but Wiltshire.

His mother was sick. She didn’t recognise him most days, and in some ways, he didn’t recognise her either. Thinking about his mother only made Draco resent her more. It wasn’t fair, how she could escape to her delusions and leave him to deal with everything alone.

Harry got up and kneeled over him on the bed so that his hair fell down toward Draco. It didn't look like a comfortable position. Draco wondered how long Harry was going to keep it up.

"What are you thinking about?" Harry asked.

"My mother."

"How is she?"

"The same," Draco said, clipped. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't. Harry could pin him down with a single look.

"Do you still go see her?"

"Once a week."

"Want me to go with you next time?"

Draco shook his head. He said yes, and then no.

"Okay," Harry agreed.

Draco wanted to smack the smirk off Harry's face. "Okay? I didn’t give you an answer."

"Didn’t need to. I know for sure you want me to come when you get like that."

Draco pulled Harry down by the neck and kissed him. Kissing Harry felt like tripping. It felt like an accident. Inevitable.

"Are we really doing this?" Harry asked, breathing hard.

Draco hummed yes and tried to pull Harry back down.

But Harry was insistent. "No, really. I don’t want it to get weird tomorrow. Are we really—"

"Yes. Okay." And then Draco added a little hesitantly, "If you want to."

"Yeah, I do," Harry said.

Draco burned from Harry's smile. He pushed Harry over and climbed onto his lap. He wondered if they were going to have sex. He wasn’t prepared, so probably not.

“You’re so hard,” Draco said. It was different than with Brent. Of course, it was different. It was stupid even to compare. When Harry got hard, it was like he was angry. There was an edge of desperation in it, an extra touch of roughness that lured Draco in.

Draco bit Harry’s ear and felt Harry growl under his chest. But Harry didn’t tell him to stop, didn’t tell him to be quiet like he did in the past. Something had changed between them, even though their bodies still knew each other.

“You can do it,” Draco meant about pushing him down, putting a hand over his mouth.

But Harry didn’t do it, so Draco caught Harry’s hand and put it on his neck then swallowed so Harry could feel his throat moving.

Harry asked, "You make Brent do this to you too?"

"Why?"

"Just tell me."

"No," Draco confessed. He wanted—needed—to obey that voice. 

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Then, why me?"

Because Draco trusted him. Because it felt good. It wasn't that complicated, really, even though it was too hard to explain.

Draco shook his head. "I don’t know why." He looked away. "You don’t have to if you don’t want to."

"But you want me to."

Draco started shoving off the bed. "You’re making it weird."

"No. No, I can do it." Draco could hear the futility in Harry's voice as he tightened his grip on Draco's throat.

Draco felt himself get lightheaded. He stared up into Harry’s eyes, saw the grimace in them. It had to be Harry because Harry was the only one who needed it but hated it at the same time.

They sat across from each other at a pizza place a few months later, in late spring. The term was ending, and it was starting to get hot, so everyone was skiving off-campus.

Draco was picking the olives off his pizza. 

"Don’t do that," Harry said, even though he wasn't actually annoyed, and watched Draco drop the olive back on his slice without a word. Then Harry told Draco to take off his scarf because it was too warm and he watched Draco take it off even though he shivered.

Watching Draco follow Harry's commands, both thrilled and disgusted him. He wanted to ask Draco to do something else, to test if Draco would do anything he asked. Instead, he asked him if he was ready to go. They had another two hours before getting to Wiltshire.

Harry drove with his knuckles white, and his mind lost in thought. Once they were out in the country, he veered off to the side of a lane and cranked Draco's chair down so he could crawl over Draco, put his hands on Draco's cock.

It was weird driving to Malfoy Manor with Draco, although Harry had done it a million times before with Andromeda. He kept expecting Draco to recognise parts of it, but of course, he never did because he didn’t drive. 

Draco kept getting more and more nervous the closer to the Manor they got, although the sex seemed to have calmed him down a bit. Harry wasn't the type to ask how someone's doing, so he didn't. He thought Draco was telling him enough anyway, with the way he kept on checking his watch, a heavy silver thing that looked straight out of the Malfoy vault. And there were other ways to figure Draco out.

Harry thought about Draco's dad in Azkaban. Lucius had four years left, but Harry wasn't sure if he was still there, because he didn't get the Daily Prophet anymore.

Harry recognised plenty of the drive even if Draco didn't. He knew the rest stops, got anxious for the view when rising up a crest. They were snaking down through a valley when Draco started hitting the dashboard and looking out the window like he was trying to get out. Harry pulled over and watched as Draco fumbled with the door and puked about five feet from the car. The road had been a bit windy, Harry reasoned. Even he got carsick sometimes.

Draco got back in the car and told Harry that his mother had died.

Harry didn't know how he got in these situations. It was like things happened to Draco, and somehow, Harry was always there.

"So you're not going for tea," Harry said, the words just coming out. He thought of the other funerals he'd gone to. Sirius's, Dobby's, Dumbledore's. Each one had been either too small or too big. Each one not quite befitting the man it was for—like he'd gone and shown up at the wrong funeral.

"There's tea after," Draco said. "And before, if you hurry up."

"I'm not wearing black," Harry said, words still not his.

"You're a fucking wizard, Harry. If you're going to make an excuse, make a better one."

"I —" Harry hesitated. "I'm not trying to make an excuse. I'm sorry."

"About what?"

Harry knew to back down from a taunt now, so he kept quiet. Draco knew what Harry was sorry about.

They got to the church, and Draco pulled out two sets of black robes from his suitcase, so Harry knew he'd expected Harry to come along. Expected, or hoped, Harry never knew the difference with Draco. It wasn't like Harry had ever said no. Sometimes he wanted to say no, just to prove that he could. But then, Harry could also see the benefits of doing things Draco's way. This way, they skipped the awkward part leading up to the funeral and could just get on with it.

Draco shouldn't have hired a coordinator. The cathedral she chose was too big and swallowed up the few people who'd shown up. Each step he took echoed too loudly in the room, as though drawing the attention of Death themself. And the flowers. How garish was it to have an abundance of one's namesake at one's own funeral? Their smell alone was almost enough to drive Draco right back out the door.

And the song. Just one piece, over and over again. And if that wasn't bad enough, it was  _ In Noctem _ , the one they'd played for weeks through Hogwarts in the wake of Dumbledore's death. Draco didn't want to think about his former headmaster at a time like this, in another funeral whose death he had a hand in, whether he intended to or not.

The coordinator sat in the front, bawling her eyes out even though she'd never met Narcissa once while she was still alive. Draco counted the seconds and dreamed up the coordinator's funeral. Maybe he'd put  _ Hoggy Warty Hogwarts _ on repeat. When anyone complained, he'd say that it was her dying request. Nobody dared protest last wishes (especially not when ghosts were involved).

Draco tried not to look at Lucius, who sat next to an Auror with his hands bounded in the first row. But he failed at it the same way he failed at most things he tried. Lucius caught his eyes, gaunt as a ghoul, before sliding his eyes over to Harry. Draco felt the sudden urge to bolt. But instead, he froze. His consciousness floated up to nothing. When he came back down, Lucius had long looked away. Harry's hand was tight around his.

Draco got up and left still holding Harry's hand. He didn't care if Lucius saw because Lucius belonged in Azkaban. He was all skin and bones. Draco could take him.

Harry asked him what he wanted to do when they were back in the car. Draco said it was none of his business. He then took it back and said that he wanted ice cream, the Muggle kind where they cut it in a rectangular shape and stuck it between two chocolate biscuits.

Harry drove them to the Tesco and stood in the parking lot watching Draco eat it. The late afternoon light reflected off Harry's glasses in a way that made him gleam. Draco wanted very desperately to kiss him, to hold that light between his arms, but it didn't seem to be the sort of thing he was supposed to do after his mother's funeral, so he didn't.

The ice cream dripped down, melting fast, the biscuits crumbling under his fist. There was an analogy in there somewhere, Draco thought. Maybe he could be an English major.

He wadded up the wrapper in his hand and licked his fingers clean. When he looked up, Harry was blocking the sun. Their noses bumped, and then Draco stepped back.

The next year, Harry had a new major and Draco had a new boyfriend, so Harry didn't see him much anymore.

Harry knew a fair number of people, but people weren't drawn to him the way they were to Draco. Draco wore nice clothes and had funny opinions about books that everyone except Harry seemed to know to read, and it turned out that that was the sort of thing that made a person likeable when they didn't have the crutch of a prophecy to depend on.

Harry wasn't good at making friends, but he wasn't jealous of Draco either. Harry didn't see the point in putting effort in friends who forgot you even existed in two years. Nobody he met seemed the sort of friend you could depend on to die for you. He missed Ron and Hermione.

Except he didn't, exactly, not Ron the Auror or Hermione the Magical Creatures Rights Activist. They had been willing to die for him at some point, but they didn't anymore. They didn't need him the same way they used to, and without that, their relationship changed.

Harry didn't know what to do with the owls that Hermione sent him, but he knew Vikash would find that kind of old-timey quill-inked parchment sort of letter weird, so he burned them all.

Vikash was a wholesome guy. He had a girlfriend from back home, so he left Harry alone most weekends, except for the weekends when Ramona came over instead. Vikash mostly kept to himself, but Ramona had a bubbly sort of energy that always wanted Harry to come out with them, so he did. He found comfort in being the third wheel. Like it was familiar to bask in the happiness of other people.

He was at a party with them now. The house they were at belonged to one of the rich alumnus kids whose family bought the house right on school property. It wasn't as impressive as Malfoy Manor, but it was still nicer than anything Harry had ever called his own.

"Look at this," Ramona said, handing him a candlestick. It was hefty in his palm, but still soft in a way that only gold could be. He turned it over, where an emerald the size of his pinky nail glimmered back at him, exposed in the light.

"Jesus," Harry couldn't help but exclaim.

"Imagine if we stole it," Vikash whistled. "Could pay for housing for a whole semester, I reckon."

"You think so?" Ramona said at the candlestick in Harry's fist.

Harry set the candlestick back on the end table. "Cameras everywhere," he said to her trailing eyes.

"A place like this, they'll keep footage for a few days at most," Ramona argued.

Harry shook his head, pointing to the family seal hidden in the tapered grooves. "Heirloom. They've absolutely microchipped this."

"How did you even know to look there?" Vikash asked, before shaking his head. "No, wait. Draco Malfoy, right?"

Harry flitted his glance over to Draco in the other corner of the living room, where he was tucked under the safety of his latest boyfriend's arms.

"You've really gone to his house?" Ramona asked, in awe. "Though I don't doubt that he grew up in a house like that." 

"Manor," Harry corrected unnecessarily. He wasn't surprised that she'd believe it. Draco could wear sweatpants, and it would still look expensive. "Can we talk about something else? What's so good about money anyway?"

Ever since leaving Hogwarts, all Harry could think about was money. There were so many ways to make it. He could turn a unicorn's heart into solid ruby. He could transfigure wool scarves into ermine stoles. He could turn a studio apartment into a penthouse suite, replace the alleyway view into one overlooking the Champs-Élysées. He could spend his whole life looking into the Mirror of Erised if he wanted to.

The more Harry wanted, the more he didn't know what he wanted out of life. Life was easier when it had all been prophesied for him.

They moved to the kitchen, where pizza boxes were piled high and cooling fast. Vikash took a box down and handed a slice to each one of them. They carried their paper plates out to the backyard and found a firepit to sit around.

"Want me to leave?" Harry asked, uncomfortable with how many couples necked in the shadows around them.

"Nah," Vikash said.

"If we wanted to snog, we'd drive the car out to an empty lot," Ramona laughed. "We come to these things just so we don't have to talk to each other all the time."

"Sorry that it's just me," Harry said, sheepish.

"Sorry you're with  _ us _ ," Ramona insisted, patting his knee. "Forced to wade with grandmum and granddad when you're literally drowning in a sea of opportunity."

Harry laughed. "It's alright. No one's interested anyway."

Ramona raised a brow. "Seriously?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't fit in."

"That's what I don't get. It wouldn't take a lot to change how you—" Ramona started saying before Vikash cut her off with a jab to her side. Harry knew what she was trying to say, though. It wouldn't take a lot of effort for him to fit in. He couldn't be Draco, of course. But he could look like he tried, and that would put him in the running with the rest of them.

"Harry declared last week," Vikash said to Ramona, who gasped. It'd been something they worked out together with him. Harry nearly died the first semester under the versatility of his course load. The second semester hadn't been much better, either. He couldn't decide between economics and law, but in the end, practically won out. He didn't want to be a professor.

"Harry here wants to change the world, one criminal justice case at a time," Vikash teased.

"It's not like that," Harry protested. He was over saving the world. He didn't want to change a thing about it.

Okay, that was probably a lie. Or a resolution. Harry didn't want to want to change the world. The last time he tried, it had actually killed him. Now, he just wanted to make a few things a little better.

Draco walked into the yard glowing from the porch light, his boyfriend a close shadow. Harry watched them disappear behind the hedges. He didn't need to look to see the worry on Vikash's face. His friends were used to this by now.

The week after Draco's mother had died, Draco had said he wanted space. Harry gave him his space for an entire week. And then Draco had said they should break up.

So Draco was with someone else now, and Harry was alone, pretending like he wasn't waiting for the next time Draco would want him again. He was so obvious it was like he wore the pathetic like a perfume.

Ramona stood up, shouting at a woman who'd just appeared from the door. The whole yard turned to look at the commotion. Harry caught Draco's eyes briefly, before Draco blinked away, turning to scowl at his boyfriend, who was not Harry. Probably to complain about the noise. Harry could understand: Ramona was  _ loud _ . She sounded like a stuttering trumpet even when she whispered.

"Luna," Harry said dumbly when the woman approached. She hadn't been recognisable from a distance, with her hair dyed lilac and her eyes under thick iridescent shades.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, motioning for him to get up. He stood up and walked straight into her arms as though entranced.

"So you two already know each other," Ramona commented, pleased. "Luna's the star poet in our class. We've been helping each other edit." 

"Harry and I went to boarding school together, although I was a year younger," Luna explained.

"Oh!" Ramona exclaimed. "That means you went to the same school as Draco? We were just talking about him."

Harry flinched, remembering the last time Luna was in the dungeons. She took it better than him. "We're very distantly related," she said. "I've been as a child, although I don't remember much."

"You go to school here too, Luna? How did I not know?" Harry asked.

"The wagglesnurfs suggested that you needed your space," Luna said.

Harry was so relieved to hear that she hadn't changed. "Wagglesnurfs?" he laughed.

"Where do you come up with this stuff?" Ramona laughed along. "You're  _ so _ creative."

Draco found Luna when she sat down next to him during one of his eight-am lectures. It was like he'd run into a brick wall of guilt when he recognised her.

He followed her out after class. They walked to the vending machine, where he slipped in enough quarters for her to pick up a package of crisps and a can of cola.

"Thanks," she said. "How have you been, friend?"

Draco choked on his spit. And then Harry came up and slung an arm around her shoulders like he belonged there. Like they were dating. And then Luna twisted her face up to kiss Harry on the cheek.

"You don't mind, do you?" she said to his gaping face.

"Of course not," he said quickly. And then he ran away, determined to never see them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 💛 You can find me on [dw](https://fwooshy.dreamwidth.org/) and [tumblr](https://fw00shy.tumblr.com/).


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